


Welcome to SG-1

by theemdash



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Banter, Blow Jobs, First Time, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Off-World, Season/Series 09, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:14:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22051048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theemdash/pseuds/theemdash
Summary: Cam's still figuring out his place on SG-1 when he accidentally doses himself and Daniel with alien sex dust. Oops.
Relationships: Daniel Jackson/Cameron Mitchell
Comments: 10
Kudos: 63





	Welcome to SG-1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sopdetly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sopdetly/gifts).

> When an idea springs fully formed, you don't question anything, you just go with it.

"Y'know, this isn't what I imagined when I said I was putting the band back together." Cam checked another box on the inventory list and then rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. 

The storage facility, a cozy room tucked in the back of the palace they'd 'gated into, was a maze of boxes and tables with '822's wares spread across them in samples. Cam and Jackson had been left to inventory while Sam and Teal'c made nice with the locals. Cam still wasn't sure how he'd wound up with the grunt work while Sam was fielding the diplomacy.

"I expected something more—exciting. First contact with cool looking aliens! Playing with new technologies! Discovering fascinating things about the human condition! Not—" Cam leaned over a square dish with a greenish, glittering powder in it. "This something we're trading for?"

Jackson looked over, taking a distracted moment to center on what Cam was looking at. "That? Uh, that, no. Not something you want to put in your tamale." He enunciated each syllable of the word, casually refocusing on the log, matching the written account with what was laid out for SG-1. 

"Why? What is it?" Okay, yeah, it was probably best to get on with the job and not touch whatever it was, but the iridescent hue was definitely more interesting than paperwork.

"Uh? There's not really a good—" Jackson broke off in the middle of what he was saying, eyes catching between the log and the container. He trailed off for so long that Cameron leaned closer to the powder, taking the faintest of sniffs. 

"Mitchell!" Jackson barked, but it was apparently too late because whatever was in that powder rushed to Cameron's head, making him instantly flushed and… hard. His eyes jerked to his crotch, hoping Jackson couldn't see anything he shouldn't, but based on Jackson's slumped shoulders and the annoyed crease between his eyes, Cam had a guess he knew what had happened.

"Viagra," Jackson said. "On steroids. Which I take it, you've discovered."

"You could have just said so."

"I didn't have a _chance_ to say so."

Cam pulled at his pants, trying to find a more comfortable arrangement. "Yeah, well. Lesson learned."

Jackson rolled his eyes and then turned to the door, his back to Cameron. "You're going to have to take care of that."

"Excuse me?"

Jackson looked over his shoulder and jerked his chin. "That. It's just going to get worse until you—" He shook his fist in an unenthusiastic but specific gesture.

"Here?!" No other exits, and no surveillance that Cameron could see, but the middle of a storage room—while on duty off-world—wasn't exactly Cam's top pick for Places and Times to Jerkoff. 

"It's just going to get worse," Jackson sing-songed. 

"Like you know." Cam groaned as the pressure built. He unzipped his tac vest and jacket and shrugged them down his shoulders, tugging out his shirttail at the same time. There was a round, wet spot on the tan hem. "Christ," he hissed to himself.

"I'll keep an eye on the door. Just—" Jackson wiggled his fingers this time, still keeping a safe distance. "Get a grip." 

"Har har," Cameron laughed, but he was staring at his crotch now, seriously contemplating Jackson's advice. His fingers twitched to the buttons on his BDUs. It wouldn't be so bad: Jackson had his back, the lighting wasn't so bright that an artful hunch couldn't hide most of what he was doing, and this sounded exactly like the kind of early boneheaded missions that creatively colored SG-1's reputation. 

"Aw, hell." Quick fingers opened his fly and he grabbed his dick, the sensation sending him staggering back against the table. Every ceramic and glass container rocked and clinked together. Smooth. 

"Mitchell!" Jackson caught his shoulder, Cameron caught the edge of the table, and together they kept him upright. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, just—intense, like you said." Cam tilted his head up, finally noticing the glittering dust raining around them. "Well that's new."

Jackson followed his gaze. "Aww, _fuck_." His chin dropped to his chest, and Cam's attention followed, landing on a very interesting and interested part of Jackson's anatomy.

"Well, it takes two to tango."

"Shut. Up." Jackson ground out each word and didn't look at Cameron as he unzipped his jacket, opened up his fly, and shoved his pants to his knees. He dropped to the floor next to the table. Cameron followed suit, figuring it was better to be braced for this. "Do not tell Jack about this."

Cam's soul practically left his body at the thought of purposefully telling General O'Neill about this. "Not my first phone call once we're home."

That agreement reached, Cameron closed his eyes and took matters in hand again. His own hand felt better than usual, every trace touch electric. Didn't hurt that he had a live soundtrack next to him, hitching and panting in tune to Cam's own motions. Jackson's jacket sleeve brushed against Cam's arm, a ghost touch he could barely feel through the layers of fabric, but one that crept from his arm to his spine. Jackson was enthusiastic, or at least determined, and the steady swish of the fabric and rhythmic slap of flesh was distracting, pulling his attention away from his duty, as it were.

"Jackson."

_"What."_

"Uh…" Cameron licked his lips and then swiveled his head, taking in Jackson's closed eyes, the way his tongue flashed out to wet his lips, that his hand hadn't stopped moving over his leaking prick.

Jackson wasn't the type he'd normally chase, especially considering how prickly he'd been since their re-introduction, but Cam didn't think he'd have regrets about it in the morning. "I could use a little help."

Jackson's head thunked against the cabinet wall behind them and his hand stilled. "Of course." He sighed heavily and looked at Cameron, exhaustion seeping into his ice blue gaze, glasses slipped down his nose. "This ain't doing it for you?" His eyes flicked up and to the side. Thankfully a counter and another stack of boxes hid them from the door, but yeah, not exactly Cam's dream location for an illicit rendezvous with a teammate.

He grinned a little sheepishly. "Make it worth your while," he offered. He let Jackson consider it a moment before reaching over to press the bridge of Jackson's glasses up his nose. 

His fingers trailed down Jackson's face, and Jackson squeezed his eyes shut, tongue flicking out to catch the tip of Cam's ring finger as it brushed past soft lips. 

Jackson growled in frustration. "Seriously, this stays between us." He started shuffling around, pushed Cameron's leg down, and straddled it, trousers pulled tight across his thighs but low enough that he was fully exposed. "You kiss?" he asked before putting a hand to Cam's dick and applying that active tongue to Cameron's throat.

"Y-yeesss," he stuttered, not sure if he was replying to the sensation or Jackson's question, and it didn't matter because right now he was willing to do anything Jackson asked.

Jackson's mouth sealed over his a moment later, and Jackson hitched up, making Cameron stretch his neck to follow. His tongue brushed Cam's lips and then slid inside, like they'd both just been waiting for the excuse. Jackson's free hand tangled in Cam's fingers and then wrapped them around Jackson's dick. He helped Cameron with the first few tugs, hot skin encasing Cameron's hand from either side. Not like pulling himself. So, so much better. He squeezed, and Jackson grabbed the front of Cam's shirt, moaning into Cam's mouth, the sound filling the hollow places in his chest and reminding him just what he was doing.

It hadn't been that long, but it'd been long enough since someone else touched his dick, and Jackson was much better than his dusty memories.

He slid his unoccupied hand up the back of Jackson's shirt, fingers raking over the skin, their hands moving frantically between them. Jackson pulled in just the right way, a little rough, a little fast, and with a steady beat that was just what Cameron needed at the moment. His thumb pressed a swirl against the head of Cam's dick that made him gasp into Jackson's beautiful mouth.

Jackson had been right about the intensity, right that it needed to be dealt with right away, but Cameron had been wrong that he hadn't wanted the good Dr. Jackson, because if this was what sex with him was like, he didn't want to stop.

He grabbed Jackson's hair to break the kiss, panting over his lips, "Good for you?"

Jackson thrust, dick sliding up through Cameron's fist like a challenge. "Good enough."

He licked up Jackson's jaw, scratching his teeth over the skin below his ear and unseating Jackson's glasses. He could imagine what they looked like—Jackson straddling him, back arched with Cam's hand in his hair, Cam's mouth at his throat, dicks out and dripping. He tried to cement the visual in his memory, catch the sound of Jackson's wanton moan and record it for posterity. He'd understand if this was a one-time deal, but that didn't mean he had to forget it.

He grabbed Jackson's bare ass with both hands and hauled him closer. Jackson hitched forward with the movement, grinding against Cam's thigh and quickly adjusting so he could grab both their dicks in one hand, flesh against flesh in a motion that made Cameron see fireworks. 

Jackson's ass fit perfectly in his hands, like it was made to go there or Cameron was made to hold it. A wild thought about biting it flitted through his brain, but he didn't want to change position. He nuzzled Jackson's neck instead, pressing teeth against him but not biting.

"Don't leave marks." The breathy command seemed almost lazy, but the part of Cameron's brain that had been drilled to take orders was willing to obey—this time. 

Jackson ducked his head, and Cameron found his mouth again, latching on and licking in while they rutted together, Cameron kneading Jackson's ass and wondering how he'd gone so long without tearing Jackson's clothes off and fucking him against the Stargate. Jackson clearly had an ass that needed to be owned, and by God, Cameron wanted to sign up for that privilege. 

Jackson broke the kiss again, biting his own lip and muffling the groan that rose in his throat. He pressed his forehead against Cameron's and then leaned back, body drawing rigid in Cam's arms. His dick contracted beside Cameron's, and Jackson's hand stuttered, the rhythm changing to long strokes as Jackson's come spurted between them, coating their dicks and shirttails. Cameron squeezed Jackson's ass, fingers dipping into the cleft and drawing his cheeks apart; the naughty image caught in Cameron's mind in the split second he imagined tonguing Jackson's clenching hole.

Jackson's whole body relaxed at once, face coming down to press against Cameron's again, trading long aching kisses. His grip had shifted, focusing solely on Cameron's dick now that his own was slowly softening between them.

"I can't believe you haven't come yet." The words were a quiet whisper between them, practically smothered by their desperate breaths.

"Not a complaint I've heard before." Cameron smiled when he caught the lazy smile from Jackson that made him feel like things after today would probably be okay.

"Yeah, well, we don't have a lot of time, hero."

Being called a hero by Daniel Jackson—even in a teasing tone (maybe especially in that teasing tone)—short-circuited Cameron's brain so that it took him a second to notice that Jackson was pulling away and quickly tucking himself back in his pants.

"Wait, what are you—?"

"Relax." Jackson resettled between Cameron's legs, lying on his front and wrapping his arms around Cameron's thighs.

"Oh, shit." Cameron brought his knees up, bracing himself, because as soon as Jackson's mouth touched the head of his dick, Cameron thought he might die.

He leaned his head back, heat flooding through him, losing track of exactly what his body was because everything he knew had centered on the wet, sucking sensations on his dick. And Jackson was _good_, tongue massaging, fingers pressing against his balls and sliding south. His hesitant hand reached up and tentatively caressed the back of Jackson's head, light weight applied slowly until Jackson grabbed Cameron's forearm and pulled so that Cameron was forcing Jackson's head down in his lap and they both moaned—loudly.

Jackson's finger skated along Cam's perineum and then brushed against his asshole, sending an electric spike of arousal through Cam. 

"Do it." He thrust his hips up against Jackson, trying to encourage him, and Jackson pressed into Cameron. The push in, the pull from his dick, suddenly it was all just right and too much and Cam groaned out his orgasm, spilling into Jackson's mouth, hand in his hair holding him down while he felt Jackson's throat swallowing around him.

He was hot all over—from the exertion, and a little from embarrassment—when he petted Jackson's hair down, trying to smooth out the tufts he'd raised from all his pulling. "Ja-Jackson?" 

Jackson grabbed Cam's shirt and pulled himself up, laying a wet, come-covered kiss on Cam's unsuspecting lips. He wrapped his arms around his temporary lover, glad there was a little post in their coitus, and licked into Jackson's mouth to taste the fruits of their labors.

The kiss went on much longer than Cam had expected, Jackson's mouth still moving against his, his fist still clutching Cam's shirt and pulling them close. He wasn't looking forward to the moment when Jackson told him to button up and they went back to being teammates. 

The kisses gentled, transforming into little nibbles and then close-mouthed goodbyes. Cam kissed him one last time, pressing hard into the kiss to make it last, and then he opened his eyes and let go.

Eyes still locked on Jackson's debauched face, he hitched a thumb, pointing to the table above them. "I know we're _not_ trading for it, but are you sure?"

A stuttering laugh hissed past Jackson's teeth and he dropped his head on Cameron's chest. The casual intimacy lanced through Cam, but he replied with a relaxed laugh when Jackson said, "So, sure." 

Cam helped him upright and then assessed the damage to their uniforms. Nothing that couldn't be covered up by keeping their shirttails in and jackets zipped, so all in regulation. Thank God. In the heat of the moment, Cam hadn't given a lot of thought to being neat—nor to getting caught, which he was now considering with more concern.

"Not your first encounter with the alien sex dust, I'm guessing."

Jackson tucked in his shirt and re-buttoned his pants, hiding away all the evidence. "Nope. Got dosed last time, too, in a much more embarrassing situation which I'm never telling you about."

"Much like how we're never telling anyone about this."

"Exactly!" Jackson said brightly, eyes finally meeting Cam's again. He was fully back in uniform, all buttons buttoned and zippers zipped and still looking like something Cam would like to lick head to toe.

Cameron pulled his cap down, tucking away all non-military feelings. "I thought SG-1 was tight, though. That these kind of secrets—they're usually shared among the whole team, right?" He circled his finger, indicating the missing members, but sort of wondering if maybe this _could_ just stay between them. Sam already knew too much about Cam's personal life from the time her hospital visit coincided with his mom's.

"Ah, I wouldn't worry about it." Jackson grabbed his inventory list again, retrieving the fallen pencil from the floor. "Teal'c and Sam probably already know."

"Excuse me—what?"

A wry smile curved the corner of Jackson's mouth and he thumbed the radio on his shoulder. "Hey, Sam, we're about done here."

The radio buzzed and Sam's voice crackled over the line. "Figured. We were getting a little tired of stalling. You remind Cam we have to stick to the inventory list?"

Jackson held his hand out to Cameron, a know-it-all smirk reminding Cam he had a lot to learn when it came to the _real_ SG-1 protocol. 

Cam replied over his own radio. "No impulse purchases. Five minutes."

"Copy that." 

Cam leveled a look at Jackson, trying his damnedest to get back on even footing and dispel the hot blush fighting its way up his neck. "Most missions aren't like this, right?"

Jackson shook his head side to side, a shrug and exaggerated frown still not making him look any less appealing. "Fewer than we'd like."

"Fewer than—?" He gave Jackson a once over, and then jerked when Jackson returned the assessing flick of his eyes and grinned. 

"Welcome to SG-1." The words, while warm and teasing, caught in Cameron's ears like a come on, but he tried his best to hear them as Jackson had probably meant them: acknowledgement that in dealing with the mishandling of alien tech, Cam had finally earned his stripes.

Cam started packing away the items Jackson had already checked off, trying to settle back into the teammate rhythm.

"So, how do you explain this in a mission report?"

Jackson laughed, turning back to the inventory. "Don't worry, I'll walk you through it."

"Oh, _you_ will?" Cam teased.

He felt Jackson's eyes on him again and looked up. 

"Maybe back at my place?" Jackson asked.

The suggestion flipped Cam's stomach, his heart suddenly in his throat. His eyes flicked over to the sex dust again, and he wondered how much it would matter if he stole a pinch.


End file.
